


Strawberry Jelly

by SunriseRose1023



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allergies, Anaphylaxis, F/M, Hospitalization, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4577139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between his brother and his friend.  Cas is still trying to figure out how to be human. When Dean's life is suddenly in danger, and Cas' angel mojo is gone, Cas gets a crash course in how a human can save a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from LJ: 
> 
> "Dean with a severe food allergy, unintentionally eating whatever food that is and having an anaphylactic reaction. Cas is the only one around to help (maybe Cas made lunch for them both at the bunker or something) and has no idea what to do or what the heck an Epi-Pen is, so he has to call Sam and get instructions. Any season after 4 is fine, as long as Cas is around and he and Dean are good friends (no “I can throw you back into Hell” Cas)."
> 
> This is set at the beginning of Season 9, as kind of an alternate situation in episode 3, "I'm No Angel." It is very, very slight Destiel, not explicit at all.

**Strawberry Jelly**

Dean sat at the table with his head in his hands, letting out a long breath. He didn’t want to do this. This was the _last_ thing he ever wanted to do. But things were so messed up now, and …

He couldn’t lose Sam. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through.

He didn’t want to lose Cas either. But Sam came first. Sam always came first. Cas knew that.

Didn’t he?

Dean sat back and blew out his breath, shaking his head. Damn Ezekiel and his demands. Even if the bastard was right—which Dean was not 100% certain he was. There was something fishy going on there, but what, Dean couldn’t figure out. Zeke was healing his brother, and that was what was important. With Sam’s well-being, hell, Sam’s _life_ on the line, Dean felt obligated to do as the angel asked.

Dean pushed his hands through his hair, letting out a sigh. 

How could this angel think he took precedence over Cas? Why couldn’t they just co-exist in the bunker? Cas wasn’t an angel anymore. Dean could talk to him, get him to keep his mouth shut about Zeke being in Sam—since Sam didn’t know—and once Sam was all healed up, Zeke could hit the road. 

But Zeke was adamant. If Cas was around, he wouldn’t be. 

Dean closed his eyes, leaning his head back on his shoulders. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his legs, crossing his ankles and resting his feet on the table. He held that position for a minute, until he couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Cas, I know you’re standing there.”  
“I wasn’t certain if you were asleep, or not.”

Dean smiled, blinking his eyes open, letting his feet off the table and sitting up.

“Just thinking, man.”  
“About what?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, not ready to have the conversation yet. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the plates in Castiel’s hands. Cas followed his gaze, then shrugged his own shoulders.

“I thought you might be hungry.”  
“Always.”

Dean smiled as Cas set a plate in front of him, walking around the table and sitting down. Dean made a face as he looked at his plate.

“We got to talk about these carrot sticks and stuff.”  
“Carrots are good for you, Dean. Healthy. Full of vitamins.”  
“Stop talking to Sam about food shit.”

Cas smiled, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite. Dean shook his head, flicking a carrot stick aside and lifting his own sandwich. He took a bite, smiling at the rich peanut taste, feeling a warmth in his heart for Cas and his simple pleasures. He chewed and swallowed before his eyes flashed open.

“Cas, what is this?”  
“It’s a … Sam likes to refer to them as PB&Js. Peanut butter and—“

Dean coughed.

“I know, Cas, but what kind?”

Dean shook his head, coughing again, and Cas tilted his head to the side.

“What kind of what?”  
“Jelly, Cas.”

Dean closed his eyes as he swallowed, flinching at the sudden, growing tightness in his chest. Cas gave him a thoughtful look as he chewed.

“Strawberry. The jelly is strawberry. It was what you had in the cabinet.”  
“Shit.”

Dean pushed the plate aside, coughing more forcefully as he stood to his feet. The tickle in his throat that had appeared with that first bite only seemed to be growing, threatening to cut off his air supply. He felt warm all over, and he coughed again.

“I’m allergic … to strawberries.”  
“What?”  
“There’s a … shit.”

Dean was gasping for breath now, hand going to his throat as his eyes widened. Cas was on his feet, around the table and standing beside Dean, gently laying a hand on his back. Dean reached over to grip Cas’ shirt, gasping again.

“What can I do? Dean?”  
“Epi-Pen. Kitch—kitchen.”  
“I—I don’t—“  
“Hurry.”

Castiel ran to the kitchen, looking around, feeling a brand-new feeling he didn’t remember ever experiencing before, not even in the seconds before Lucifer disintegrated him.

_Panic._

He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for. What had Dean even said? It had been hard to understand him, the way he was choking to get the words out while he was gasping for breath. 

For the first time in his existence, Castiel felt himself moving on autopilot. He’d never done anything without carefully thinking it through, but now he was just about to turn the kitchen upside-down. Not literally of course, but—

He blew out a breath and yanked his cell phone out of his pocket, not even thinking as he threw open the cabinet doors and pressed a button on his phone.

_“Yeah.”_  
“Sam, help.”  
_“Cas?”_

Castiel didn’t answer. He was too busy yanking open drawers and pushing the contents around. He was searching for … what had Dean called it? Some sort of pen?

_“Cas, what’s going on? Are you okay?”_

He couldn’t articulate it. The panic that had gripped his heart only accelerated when Dean stepped into the kitchen on shaky legs, clinging to the doorframe as he gasped and wheezed. Cas felt too human right now, too worthless, and when he locked eyes with Dean, saw the green dimming with every quiet wheeze he gave, Cas finally spoke.

“Strawberries.”  
_“Strawberries? Castiel, what in the—wait. Oh, God. Did Dean eat strawberries?”_

Cas ran over, catching Dean as he stumbled and fell to his knees. 

“Sam, help me. Please.”  
_“Look on top of the refrigerator.”_

Cas left Dean propped up against the refrigerator as he stood up, reaching a hand up and knocking a slim box onto the floor. Cas hit his knees again, right beside Dean, as he took hold of the box. Epi-Pen. That’s what Dean had said.

“What is—“  
_“Open the box and take the pen out. It’s kind of big, and doesn’t look anything like a writing pen.”_

Cas did as Sam asked, hands shaking as he flipped open the top of the box and shook the tube-looking thing out onto his lap. He stared at it, until a weak hand reached over and squeezed his leg. Cas looked to Dean, saw the growing redness of his skin, saw a few welts on his neck that seemed to spread under the neck of his t-shirt. Dean swallowed, making a pained face when he did, then moved his shaking hand to his own thigh, tapping his fingers there. Sam’s voice came back over the line.

_“Cas, I’m on my way home. Is he okay?”_  
“No, Sam, he’s—“  
_“Okay, listen to me. I’m going to tell you what to do, and you do it, okay? Dean needs you to do this.”_

Cas just nodded, not even thinking that Sam couldn’t see him. Sam must have known, because there was hardly a break in his voice. 

_“Pop the top on the tube and slide the other thing out. That’s the injector, so don’t touch the orange part, okay?”_

Cas did as he said, popping the top and sliding a slightly smaller tube into his hand. He was careful not to touch the bottom orange tip, and listened again to Sam.

_“Point the orange part down towards the floor and hold the pen tight in your fist. Pull the top off of it. I think it’s blue, maybe?”_

Cas did as he asked, holding the thing in a death grip. Dean reached over, weakly grabbing onto Cas’ shirt and nodding his head before he gasped again. Sam’s voice was in his ear again, and Cas shifted his focus.

_”This is going to be the hard part, Cas. You’ve got to jam that orange part against Dean’s thigh. There’s a needle in it that will administer the medicine he needs, okay?”_  
“Wait, I have to—“  
_“Cas, Dean’s going to stop breathing soon if you don’t do this. He needs you, all right?”_

Cas swallowed, but nodded his head, looking over to see sleepy green eyes blinking slowly.

“Stay with me, Dean. Hang on.”

Dean nodded, and Cas let out a shaky sigh.

“What do I do?”  
_“Hold the pen really tight in your fist.”_  
“Okay.”  
_“Now swing it kind of hard and press it to Dean’s thigh. If you hear it click, you did it.”_

Cas exhaled again, unconsciously licking his lips.

_“It will go through his jeans. Just do it.”_  
“Sam, I—“  
_“Do it, Cas. Once it clicks, hold it there for ten seconds.”_

Cas took in a breath. He lifted the pen slightly, then swung—nowhere near as forceful as he once could—and made contact with Dean’s thigh. He could have wept when he heard the click, if he hadn’t seen the pain-filled look on Dean’s face. He counted to ten out loud, hearing a sigh of relief from Sam when he’d finished counting. 

_“All right, now pull the pen away from him, and rub the area wherever you stuck him.”_  
“Rub?”  
_“In a circular motion, just gently rub wherever the pen went. It’ll help the medicine move around.”_

Cas did, looking into those sleepy green eyes. Dean wheezed in another breath, nodding to Cas, still weakly holding onto his shirt. 

_“Cas, is he still conscious?”_  
“Barely.”  
_“Good. That’s good, but he’s probably going to pass out soon. Don’t panic though, okay?”_

_Too late_ , Cas thought. 

_“I’m almost there, and we’ve got to get him to a hospital, all right?”_  
“O—okay, Sam.”  
_“Just hang on, Cas. You did great.”_

Cas nodded numbly, letting the phone slip from his grasp. Dean took in a breath, wheezing it out, then slowly blinked open his eyes. He gave Cas a small smile, and Cas reached over, taking hold of each side of Dean’s neck under his ears.

“Stay with me. Don’t you leave me, Dean. Do you understand?”

He smiled that little smirk again, nodding his head slowly. It took a lot out of him, but he managed to wheeze out one quiet word.

“F—fine.”  
“You are not fine. Sam’s coming and we’re going to take care of you.”

Dean nodded, wincing when he tried to swallow. His eyes opened suddenly, locking onto Cas. He opened his mouth to speak, then went limp as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Dean? Dean!”

Sam came running into the room, seeing Cas holding Dean by his arms, and Sam hit his knees beside them.

“What happ—“  
“His eyes just—he—“

Sam leaned over, putting his ear by Dean’s mouth hearing the labored exhale.

“He passed out. Come on. We’ve got to get the hospital now.”

*-*-*-*-*

Cas paced the small waiting area, every now and then flicking his eyes towards the nurses’ station. They hadn’t come to update him and Sam since they’d whisked Dean away on a stretcher, and if Cas never experienced that ever again, it would be too soon.

He sighed, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looking down at his feet as he slowly made his way across the tiled floor. There were seventeen tiles from one wall to the other. Cas could walk them in ten steps if he wanted, stretching it out to fifty if he didn’t.

“For the love of God, man, come sit down.”

Cas looked over to one of the plastic hardback chairs, where Sam sat hunched over. Sam shook his head.

“You’re making me stir crazy.”  
“I’m sorry.”

Cas walked over and sat down beside Sam, who ran a hand over his face. Cas leaned forward, staring at the floor. Sam glanced behind them, seeing an old vending machine against the wall.

“You hungry, Cas? Thirsty?”

Castiel shook his head, and Sam stood up. Cas watched as he dug a few dollars out of his pockets, feeding one into the drink machine. Cas narrowed his eyes as he heard the tumble a second before Sam lifted the red can out of the bottom slot. He moved over to the other machine, feeding a dollar into it and selecting a bag of chips. He walked back over and sat down, setting the chips in his lap as he opened his Coca-Cola. 

Cas enjoyed Coca-Cola. Dean had insisted he have one, once he’d discovered Cas was human, and Cas enjoyed the jolt the caffeine gave. The taste wasn’t all that bad, either, and it was certainly better than coffee. 

The chips Cas hadn’t had before. They were in a red bag, and he wondered for a moment if Sam preferred his food and beverage to have a theme. Red can, red bag. The bag crinkled as Sam pulled it open, fishing out an almost-disturbingly orange chip and putting it in his mouth. He chewed with his mouth closed, kind of unlike his brother, then held the bag towards Castiel.

“Want one?”  
“I’ve never had …”

Cas leaned forward, reading the bag.

“Doritos?”

Sam nodded.

“They’re pretty good. Dean and I like these better than the blue bag. The Ranch-flavored. Try one.”

Cas nodded, reaching in and grabbing a chip. He popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly.

It was … interesting, to say the least. Very processed, but he could see the appeal. He nodded, and Sam smiled, eating another chip. He sighed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Cas mimicked his position, and Sam sighed.

“He told me that when Mom was pregnant with me, she was craving fruit, and he was eating some with her. He was four, you know? They ate grapes and apple and … cantaloupe, I think? She gave him a strawberry, and he took one bite. His tongue swelled up and he broke out in hives. Mom panicked, took him to the hospital.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Doctors said he might outgrow it, so when he was like … twelve or thirteen, we were at Pastor Jim’s. It was summertime, and he had some fruit for us, because he thought we weren’t getting enough nutrition in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese and cans of Chef Boy-Ar-Dee.”

Sam smiled softly.

“Dean grabbed a strawberry and I tried to stop him. He said that it was okay, he hadn’t had anything strawberry in years. His throat closed off and they almost had to intubate him at the ER. And a couple of years ago—”

Sam let out a quiet laugh.

“You should have seen this—“

He stopped, because he started laughing too hard. Cas couldn’t help but smile, and Sam shook his head. 

“This chick in … god, I don’t remember. Birmingham, I think? She was chatting him up, and he was Dean, so you know.”

Cas nodded, and Sam chuckled again.

“They left the bar we were in, and like less than five minutes, later, Dean runs back in and grabs my jacket, yanks me off the barstool. He pushes me in the car and mumbles something. I didn’t understand, asked him to repeat himself, and that’s when he—“

Sam laughed again, shaking his head. He turned to Cas, tears in his eyes.

“The girl, she—she had—she was wearing strawberry lip gloss.”

Cas’s eyes widened, and Sam shook his head.

“His lips were so swollen he could barely talk. And I could barely drive for laughing so hard.”

Cas laughed with Sam, until Sam wiped his eyes on his sleeve, chuckling as he calmed down. 

“God, it’s been years since I thought about that.”

Sam shook his head, sighing quietly. He looked at his hands again, and Castiel sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam glanced over, and Cas shook his head.

“I—I didn’t know, and I—“  
“Oh, Cas. Don’t blame yourself for this.” 

Castiel shook his head again.

“I made the sandwich. I didn’t even—“  
“Kevin likes strawberry jelly. We talked about it once, and he said he didn’t know Dean was allergic. He was supposed to throw it away, but knowing the little prophet, he got distracted.”

Sam sighed.

“This was just one of those things, I guess.”

Cas sat back in his chair, letting out a sigh.

“I still feel guilty.”

Sam smiled.

“Welcome to humanity, Cas.”

*-*-*-*-*

Dean hated hospitals. Hated them. With a burning passion. So when the doctor wanted to keep him overnight for “observation,” Dean had been prepared to give him a quick “no thank you, I’ll just be on my way.” He never got the chance to, though, because a raven-haired, blue-eyed former angel had been hiding in the shadows, and was quick to agree to the doctor’s request.

And then Cas went and blabbed to Sam. _Sam,_ who came down with a sudden case of amnesia about whose damn side he was supposed to be on, and instead agreed with Cas and the doctor. 

So Dean found himself stuck in the flimsy gown that was either too loose over his back or choking him, in a room that had freakin’ icicles hanging from the ceiling vent, with scratchy sheets on the bed. Oh, and don’t forget the oxygen tubes in his nose, the IV jammed into his arm administering the fluids that were making him piss like a racehorse, and the hives that they hadn’t been able to make go away quite yet and were currently itching like a motherfucker. 

Dean hated hospitals.

“Would you relax? When your face gets stuck like that, I won’t do anything but laugh.”

Dean scowled at Sam again, crossing his arms over his chest. He blew out a breath and uncrossed his arms leaning up to scratch at his sides, and Sam leaned over to bat his hands away.

“Stop scratching.”  
“I itch.”  
“You’ll make it worse.”  
“Fuck you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, going to sit down again, raising an eyebrow when Dean went to scratch at his shoulder. Dean blew out a breath and fell back against the pillows, coughing twice.

“Rethinking about rejecting that breathing treatment?”  
“You’re a son of a bitch, Sam.”

Sam laughed at Dean’s hoarse insult, leaning over and pressing the call button on Dean’s bed. Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother.

“Fucker.”  
“You’re welcome.”

A nurse came to the door and Sam apologized for Dean’s attitude, asking very nicely if he could get some Benadryl, maybe, or some lotion or cream to stop his itching, and if they could call the respiratory therapist back for the breathing treatment, because Dean will definitely comply this time. The nurse gave Sam a look like she knew better, but did as he asked. 

Dean scowled the whole time, through the injection of the Benadryl through his IV, and the chatty little respiratory girl fixing up his breathing treatment. She seemed enamored with Sam, and the big lug blushed when she turned her attention on him, after realizing Dean wasn’t going to answer any of her perky little questions. 

They walked out into the hall and left Dean alone in the room, with Sam taking it too far and threatening bodily harm to the Impala if Dean removed the oxygen mask. Nobody messed with Baby. Dean would eject that freakin’ angel first before he let Sam near his car.

“Um, hello, Dean.”

Dean blinked when a gravelly voice sounded at the door. He blinked, and Castiel pulled the door closed behind him as he walked into the room. He shivered, and Dean nodded, coughing as the medicine he was breathing opened up his airway. 

“Are you feeling all right?”

Dean nodded, unable to talk as he just focused on breathing. He coughed some more, and Cas made a face as he stepped closer to the bed.

“That thing makes a lot of noise.”

Dean nodded again, patting his chest. Cas nodded.

“It helps you breathe?”

Dean gave him a thumbs up, and Cas smiled. He pulled the chair Sam had vacated closer to the bed and sat down, letting out a long sigh. Dean rested back against the pillows, eyes drifting up to the IV pole beside his bed as he realized he wasn’t itching anymore. 

Huh.

Cas was biting his lip when Dean looked over to him again, and Dean raised an eyebrow, lifting a hand to his chest and wincing as he coughed more. Cas reached over and took his hand, holding it gently, and Dean squeezed until he could breathe again. After a moment of just breathing, Dean reached up to tap on the mask he was wearing, loosening the last of the medication. 

It wasn’t until the door opened and Cas sat back that Dean realized he’d been holding the angel’s hand. 

Sam walked in behind the little respiratory girl, who made Dean lean forward so she could listen to his lungs, praising him for doing so well as she took the mask off his face, putting the oxygen tubes back in his nose. She left the room after giving Sam a wink, and when the door closed behind her, Sam smiled at Dean.

“Since you’re doing so well and you’re hooked up to monitors and all, I’m going to go have some coffee with Brandi.”

Ah. “Brandi.” Dean just knew she had a perky name like that. She probably dotted her I’s with little hearts. He rolled his eyes at Sam, who smiled and turned to Cas.

“The treatment might make him a little nervous. If his heart races or something, that’s normal, okay?”

Cas nodded, and Sam left. Dean shifted in the bed, making himself comfortable.

“Stupid giant thinks he knows everything.”

Cas laughed quietly at the hoarse statement, shaking his head.

“He is very intelligent. And he talked me through the use of your … Epi-Pen, right?”

Dean nodded, and Cas nodded back.

“So maybe he’s not all bad.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Cas laughed again.

“Are you feeling better?”

Dean coughed, wincing again. His chest hurt. His arm hurt from the IV and the blood they’d drawn earlier, and his leg still kind of stung from the Epi-Pen. He was so tired, just incredibly exhausted. He looked to Cas, saw the worry in his blue eyes and made himself smile.

“Never better.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Hey.”

Cas looked to Dean, who gave him a smile.

“Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Cas shook his head.

“If it wasn’t for the sandwich I made—“  
“Don’t go there.”

Dean sighed.

“You didn’t know. It was an accident.”  
“I just wanted to do something nice for you, and you end up in the hospital.”  
“Cas, come on.”

Castiel met his eyes, and Dean smiled a sleepy smile.

“No one ever makes me a sandwich. I’m sorry I ruined the lunch you made by going into anaphylactic shock.”

Dean coughed again, leaning forward in the bed as he did, taking in big gulps of air. Cas stood up, walking over and gently rubbing Dean’s back.

“Take it easy. Just breathe.”

Dean did, relaxing back to the pillows. Cas stood over him, looking him over. His skin was flushed, but nowhere near the hot red color it had been. The welts were still on his neck and a few were on his arms, but they were fading. His breathing was much better, even if it wasn’t back to 100% yet. 

“You scared the hell out of me, Dean Winchester.”

Dean blinked at the low, husky tone Cas’ voice had taken. He swallowed.

“Sorry.”  
“Don’t do it again.”

Even though he knew it was impossible, that Cas was incredibly, fully human now, Dean still felt a shiver at the power that seemed to surround him. And even though he knew it was useless, he nodded. Fierce blue stayed locked on him, until Cas nodded once. He leaned back, pulling the chair closer to the bed, sitting again.

*****

Dean glanced up when the door to his room opened. Sam stepped inside, stopping when he saw Cas slumped over on the bed, sleeping while Dean ran his fingers through unruly black hair.

“He gave in twenty minutes ago. He sleeps hard.”

Sam smiled, and Dean looked up just in time to watch his eyes flash blue, before Sam was suddenly standing taller, shoulders perfectly straight. Dean sighed, closing his eyes when he heard his brother’s voice, even if it wasn’t his brother speaking. 

“I thought I was clear, Dean.”

Dean nodded, letting out another sigh.

“I can’t. He saved my life, Zeke. I can’t turn him away.”

Dean shook his head.

“I won’t.”

Ezekiel blinked, shaking his head once. Sam’s eyes flashed again, and Dean narrowed his eyes until Sam let out a laugh.

“Stop looking at me like that. You need some rest. If you’re good with Cas, I’ll head back to the bunker.”

Dean looked down, smiling softly as he ran his hands through incredibly soft hair again.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Sam smiled, nodding as he turned to walk out the door. He held a hand on the doorframe, then glanced back.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Dean.”

Dean gave him a smile, lifting his hand in a thumb’s up. Sam laughed to himself, shaking his head as he turned and left the room. Dean smiled as he laid back against the pillows, still pushing his fingers through Cas’ hair as he drifted to sleep.


End file.
